Page 32
The curb caught the tire, and I naturally let go, content to land a backhanded slap to his upper arm, “I didn’t raise you to be that way.”
“What way is that, Mom?”
My jaw tensed, “You know what I mean. You were raised better than to act that ‘a way. Like some mannerless weasel. Penitentiary or not, don’t misrepresent me or your father’s name like that again.”
It was like once I got started, I couldn’t shut my big mouth up. All the fear, the venom, the exhaustion, it all showered him. Despite that little voice in my head telling me I’d regret every word; I laid into him.
“You chose not to come to his funeral, Victor. You chose that.” The hurt hurled me about between a pitiful whisper and a growl that emitted through my clenched teeth.
Tears baptized my face once again.
“You’re damn right I didn’t.” He bucked up, eyes flashing and composure barely restrained. “What would you have had me do, Mom, come see him, and go back to that hellhole an absolute mess? Do you know what happens if a man isn’t focused enough to watch his own back and stay cautious of his surroundings? You die, Mom.”
None of my children had ever talked to me so, but to be fair, I didn’t usually lose control of my emotions in front of them the way I had been of late. I flinched as the last three words boomed over me, turning my tears into open sobs.
“You fucking die.” He sighed. “So, no. I’m sorry, I didn’t come to Pop's funeral. I went to segregation that week on purpose, and I was terrified I’d kill the son of a bitch I tore up to get there. I knew it was going to be ugly. The minute they told me, I left the cell and I beat the first person I met. I pounded him until the son of a bitch stopped moving.”
“You killed a second person?” I somehow managed to compose myself enough to blurt out the horrible question that I never would have dreamed I’d be someday asking a soul I brought into this world.
“Hell, no. If I’d killed him, they wouldn’t have let me walk. They kept me in seg until it was time to walk, though. That sucked worse than going probably could have. I was haunted by hours of nothing to do but reflect and remember.”
My heart broke all over again, hearing how he’d suffered alone.
“Let’s just knock this off, okay? I don’t want this with you. I want to take care of you and Oakland.”
“No one said you couldn’t, but you don’t have to be rude to our friends to help me around.”
“Our friends…” Victor challenged, pulling out onto the highway.
“That’s right. Mr. Henshaw is a friend of mine and Oakland’s; we attend mass together.”
He was too good of a son to call me a liar, but I felt his eyes on me.
Chapter Eleven
Vick’s Home
C.C.
At Mark’s command, Banshee call everyone up about an hour ago. He informed us one by one that we were expected at the clubhouse for another vote.
I didn’t have to ask which vote. None of us did, and I could tell just by looking around the room that absolutely no one was happy to be there.
Not even Mark.
“You ladies didn’t start without me, did ya?” Victor asked, as he ducked his head slightly to make it through the doorway.
He was well over six and a half feet tall; he had to be. The guy's shoulders were broad and his arms thick. Not that being muscled was unusual for an inmate, but hell, he’d been that size before he went in.
Our Vice President, Slutty Benji entered behind him, clapping Victor on the back as he did so, “Welcome back, Big Vick.” He smiled and tipped his head toward Mark. “I think I found our new Enforcer, brother.”
Mark grunted without commitment, his icy gaze following Big Vick around the table, though Vick didn’t seem to notice or care. He slid his chair out and took his time settling into it before anchoring his gaze on Mark.
The speed with which our president tipped his lips into a smile and squinted at the big bastard was comical.
“Welcome home, son,” Mark managed, before turning his attention toward Banshee, “I want to get this recount done, then we can discuss things. Banshee, go–”
Banshee’s squirmed and his breath seemed to catch before he scratched the back of his head and rolled his neck, the gesture somehow ending up in a nod.
